Page 76 of The Matchmaker and the Marine

A long-forgotten sensation slipped over her. “You’re very sweet.”

With nerves on edge she picked up her glass and took a sip, breaking the moment. For now.

Mel stretched out on her bedcovers still dressed in her jeans and blouse, her boots were kicked off the moment she came into the door. What a night. Adam had been a total gentleman and let her set the pace of their date.

She squealed. She had been on a date! It felt good. Well, who was she trying to kid, it felt great! Tomorrow he was picking her up and they were having breakfast. There was something about his past he wanted to talk to her about. How was she going to fall asleep?

She replayed so many moments of the evening. The way his eyes grew big when she opened the door was the first of many moments where she felt an old familiar zing of excitement.

Chapter 28

Adam and Mel got out of the truck at the diner. She slipped her arm through his as they strolled to the door. He gave her a nervous smile.

“If you’re not ready to talk about the past, we don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He opened the door and let her go in first.

Melinda seemed to give him the opportunity to take the lead. She busied herself with fixing her coffee and made small talk about what they would order. After the waitress set a full carafe on the table, she slipped away.

He took a sip of coffee and in a clear, steady voice said, “Some of this may be repetitious, but I want to be clear, I’m a Marine. I’m not former. I’m retired.”

“I think I understand.” Mel nodded, encouraging him. “Go on.”

“I would still serve if I could, but something happened on my last tour that changed my plans for the future.”

“It was your third tour, going to the desert?”

Melinda’s voice was gentle. Adam could tell he had her undivided attention. “It was.”

Their breakfast was delivered and Adam began to eat without tasting. Melinda picked up her fork and cut into the soft-boiled egg.

He knew starting from the beginning was the only way he was going to get through this. “When people talk about the war, most times they have no idea what it is really like. What you see on the news wouldn’t prepare anyone for the harsh reality. The sand gets everywhere. I dreamed of grass and trees.”

He toyed with his toast, gathering his thoughts. “Strong bonds are formed. You depend on your buddies’ eyes and ears and they on you. I was lucky the first two times. I saw first-hand what happened when one of our Humvees hit an IED, how it ended up twisted and distorted, just a hunk of metal. The seats where men and women sat were mere shells of what had been. Intel was critical in keeping us safe. Sadly, there were times our worst nightmares became our reality.” He knew his comments were stilted, but it was difficult explaining this to Mel.

“I can’t imagine living that way. Especially going back two more times.” She shuddered.

Adam pushed his eggs around.

“What was deployment like?” Her eyes searched his face. But he held his emotions in check.

“It’s not easy. Sharing it with men and women who trained alongside you, they become your family. I would have taken a bullet for anyone in my unit.”

Melinda’s mouth fell open.

“You rely on each other to get back to base in the same condition as you left.”

Adam paused and refilled their coffee mugs. “We talked about this before.” He took a sip. It burned like acid in his stomach. He added a splash of cream. “My last tour began the same as the first two. I should have been on a desk in camp, but I wanted to be with my team. It was supposed to be a routine patrol.” He faltered and dropped his head. “They died instantly. Four Marines, gone.” The ache behind his eyes gained in intensity. “Then it was our turn.”

Almost in a whisper Mel asked, “Adam?”

“I was medevac’d out.” He stopped short of telling her he lost his leg. Once again, he didn’t want to tell her he got off easy when his men hadn’t. That was the burden he carried with him every day of his life and he would until he drew his last breath. Slowly he lifted his head. “I’ve battled with depression, panic attacks and nightmares. I relive that day over and over again.” His voice cracked, thick with unshed tears. “It’s my fault those soldiers died.”

Mel laid her hand on his. “What could you have done differently?”

With a heavy heart, he looked into her eyes. “I’ve asked myself that question a million times.” It felt good to talk to her about this. It was cathartic, an unburdening of his soul.

“Have you come up with an answer?” Her tone was so gentle it soothed the ache deep inside of him.

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